


A Rude Interruption

by glitteredsins, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Antony Starr and Stephen Amell [106]
Category: Actor RPF, Arrow (TV 2012) RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Canadian Actor RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), New Zealand Actor RPF
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 02:36:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14990918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glitteredsins/pseuds/glitteredsins, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Antony Starr/Stephen Amell storyline in the BDSM RPS RPGCitadel.This is a new log and has not previously been posted to the game.





	A Rude Interruption

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Antony Starr/Stephen Amell storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).
> 
> This is a new log and has not previously been posted to the game.

After an afternoon spent in one of the club's larger and more opulent suites roleplaying a sensual and uncharacteristically gentle scene between a Maharajah and his man servant, Antony and Stephen had eaten a late dinner at one of the resort's beachside restaurants before retiring. Sprawled out, just a sheet covering them, it's Stephen who's first to sit upright at the firm, staccato knocking at their door. 

"What the fuck?" He scrubs a hand over his face and glances at the bedside clock. It's just after 2 am. "I'll get it," he rumbles gruffly, sliding out of bed and grabbing some shorts to pull on. 

"Thanks." Antony stays where he is. It's probably some drunken asshole with the wrong room number.

When Stephen opens the door, the security guard nods. "Sorry to disturb you, Mr. Amell, but we have a security issue and Monsieur Garneau asked that we wake Mr. Starr."

Stephen blinks at that, his sleep fuddled brain taking a moment to parse out what the hell the guy is saying. "Huh? You want Antony?" he backs up a step and looks back toward the bed. "Tony, this guy needs to speak to you." It's not lost on him that his heart rate has kicked up a little, something cold and unpleasant has settling in the pit of his belly. 

Fuck. Antony makes his way out of the bed, the top sheet wrapped loosely around his hips. "Yeah?" He's instantly awake, alert, but he's still hoping it's something he can fix without actually having to leave the room.

"Mr. Starr," the security guard nods again, aware of the man's partner standing right there. "There's a security issue," he repeats, "and Monsieur Garneau asked that we wake you."

"What kind of issue?" Antony asks.

"I'm not sure, Sir," the guard says. "I was just sent to get you."

Antony stares at him for a moment. Christ. Of all the fucking times. "It could be some computer thing," he tells Stephen, letting the guard know he'll be right with him and closing the door.

Stephen bites back the words ready to spill out of his mouth. _We're on our honeymoon, Louis knows that... so this is serious? Right?_ Or _Why you? There are a hundred other people to call before it gets to you..._ Instead he moves back into the room and flips on a light, silently pulling a pair of jeans from a drawer, a tee set beside it. 

"It probably won't take long but don't bother waiting up for me," Antony says, tossing the sheet back on the bed and pulling on the clothes. "One of us should get some sleep," he adds with a smile, trying to lighten the mood, the worry he sees on Stephen's face.

"Would you be able to get back to sleep if you were me?" Stephen asks drily. He unplugs Antony's phone from where it had been charging and hands it over. "I'll be up, call me if you're going to take a while, okay?"

"Okay." Antony nods, wrapping a hand around the back of Stephen's neck and pressing their foreheads together. "I love you."

"I love you too, now go save the world," Stephen teases, with humour he doesn't really feel. 

Stephen pours himself a scotch and takes it back to bed once Antony's left. He piles the pillows behind his back to prop himself up and picks up the book he's been reading off the bedside table, spending the next half an hour rereading the same page, unable to take anything in as his mind insists on going to a place he rarely lets it: Antony's not so legal work. He tries, however, to convince himself that this is all above board, because this is Louis, and the Club and he knows that is at least a legitimate part of Antony's remit. Even so. He tosses the book aside in the end, drains the scotch and takes himself outside to their patio.

The security problem turns out to be one of Zoran's people. Caught trying to breach the property, they've got him tied to a chair in one of the dungeons, everything closed down for the night, when Antony's brought in. There's no way Zoran would send only one man so Antony spends some time convincing the man to talk, and when it becomes clear it's going to take longer, he texts Stephen with _Going to take a while. Try and get some sleep. Love you._

Stephen starts when his phone trills the noise to let him know there's a message, he picks it up off the table and reads it. He blows out a breath, not sure how he feels at reading Antony's words. There's nothing there to suggest this is anything sinister, so he thumbs back a quick. _Okay. xxx_ Stephen takes himself off back to bed, gives his book another go and falls asleep some time 20 mins later, the book still clutched in his hand.

It's almost five in the morning when Antony makes his way back to their suite. They'd got what they wanted out of the guy, finally, enough information that his men had found the other two and shut them down. After that, there'd been a long talk with Louis, Antony apologizing for bringing this shit to their door, but surprisingly enough, Louis had looked at it as an opportunity to make certain their security worked, which it had. Christ. All cleaned up, except for a smear of blood on his jeans and a few abraded knuckles, Antony lets himself into their room as quietly as possible. Breathing a sigh of relief at the sight of Stephen asleep on the bed.

It's the sound of the door snicking shut that starts the slow rise from sleep, and it's only as Antony steps out of his jeans that Stephen opens his eyes. "Tony?" he pushes up on one elbow, peering down the bed in the pre dawn light. 

"Yeah. I'm back. I'm just gonna grab a shower," Antony says, pulling his t-shirt off as well and shoving both jeans and tee in their laundry sack. He bends over the bed, bracing one hand above Stephen's head and drops down for a kiss. "Then I'm going to try and get some sleep."

"'kay," Stephen mumbles dropping back onto the bed, he tucks the sheeting up over his belly and turns onto his side. In his half dozing state it registers that Antony smelled of sweat, much like he does after sex, or exercising. Stephen's brow wrinkles but he resists the urge to come to a little more, waiting instead for his husband to join him.

Antony roughly scrubs himself down in the shower, making sure to get every inch of skin and hair and scalp. He pops the provided nail brush out of its wrapping and scours beneath his nails, every last trace removed and his skin turned bright red before he steps out of the shower. There's not much he can do about his knuckles, other than rub some ointment into them, but at least they're not still bleeding.

Clicking off the bathroom light, Antony climbs back into bed, wrapping himself around Stephen, a kiss pressed to the back of his neck, just above his collar.

"Everythin' okay?" Stephen slurs out, his eyes firmly shut, he snugs back against his husband and huffs out a noise of contentment.

"Yup. All taken care of," Antony assures him, closing his eyes, the adrenaline finally fading.

*********

It's full daylight when Stephen wakes again, Antony's still pressed tight against him, he can tell by the slow even pace of Antony's breathing his husband is still asleep. Easing his way out from under one sleep heavy arm, Stephen makes his way to the bathroom. 

Antony stirs at Stephen leaving the bed, but it's momentary and he quickly goes still again.

Another morning another room service delivery of breakfast, this one not quite so over the top as the morning before - and Stephen presses his finger to his lips to quiet the delivery guy. He winks as he points to the bed and Antony's sleeping form. Exchange taken care of he wheels the trolley into the room and fixes his own food and a coffee, taking it outside so as not to disturb.

When Antony finally wakes, it's to the smell of food and coffee, an empty bed and curtains slightly open to reveal Stephen sitting outside, eyes on the water. He rolls out of bed to take a piss and wash his hands before tugging on a pair of board shorts and grabbing a coffee along with some bacon, toast and fruit. "Morning," he says, sliding open the patio door, his plate awkwardly balanced against his chest.

Stephen hops up out of his seat and takes Antony's plate from him. "Here," he sets it down and retakes his seat as Antony settles. "How're you feeling?" he picks up his mug of coffee again and eyes his husband over the rim.

Antony yawns, covering his mouth with his hand and laughing. "Tired." They hadn't got much sleep before security came and got him and he's only had a few hours since. "But I see it's another beautiful day." He smiles at Stephen. "What about you?"

Stephen was about to ask what the actual problem had been, but as Antony lifts his hand to his mouth to smother his yawn, he notices the bruising and skin scuffs. A frown draws his brows down and he leans forward. "What happened to your hand?"

"I punched someone," Antony says after a moment, taking a sip of his coffee. "An intruder."

Stephen's brows go up, if the subject matter at hand wasn't so serious, it would be comical. "You punched an intruder? Why? If they came to get you, they already had them under control."

"They thought they did but he was with two other guys so we had to subdue them as well," Antony explains, keeping as close to the truth as he can. "They managed to breach the outer perimeter, but we got them before they hit the inner one and then I had to work on putting the outer one back up and reinforcing it."

"And why did they feel the need to come get you Tony?" It's a pointed question, and one Stephen makes while holding his husband’s gaze.

"Because I'm the only one who can program security on the fence," Antony responds. "If I wasn't here, they would have called me wherever I was and had me do it remotely. Since I was here, Louis had them come and get me."

"But we weren't talking about programming the security, we were talking about you punching someone," Stephen's getting a little irritated at what he sees as deliberate obfuscation on his husband's part.

Antony blows out a breath. "You asked me what happened to my hand," he points out, setting his mug back on the coffee table. "And I told you. And then you asked why they came and got me. They came and got me to fix the security, we figured out there were two other guys on the grounds, not just the one in custody, and I went out with the guards to retrieve them."

Stephen rubs his forehead. "What were they trying to do?" This question is much more subdued, Stephen's tone softer, as if he's unwilling to rile Antony any further, despite his own misgivings.

"Probably rob people," Antony says, shrugging lightly. "The head of security questioned them briefly and then we called the police and handed them over." The last part being the only complete lie he's told.

"Okay," Stephen nods, he pushes up out of his seat and heads inside to top up his coffee, he carries the insulated jug back out, assuming Antony will need more too. He feels unsettled by their conversation, something just feels a little... off.

Fuck. Antony closes his eyes for a moment when Stephen heads inside. For a minute, he can't help wishing he could tell his husband the whole truth, that he didn't have to let the shit he does stand between them, but Stephen's made it clear he doesn't want to know. That it might affect how he feels about Antony.

Silently Stephen refills his husband's cup before sitting down. "We can chill on the beach a little today, you can have a nap this afternoon, and we should pack up tonight." Time for a change of subject, Stephen feels. "Long flight home tomorrow."

"We should pack up before dinner," Antony says, giving Stephen a smile. "That way we can enjoy our whole evening."

"What do you want to do?" Stephen glances at Antony before turning his attention back to the plate set before him and the piece of toast he'd left earlier.

"Tonight?" Antony clarifies, finally picking up a piece of bacon.

"Yeah for dinner," Stephen nods, downing more coffee in between bites of toast.

"We could go to the South Indian restaurant," Antony suggests. "Have one more local meal." As opposed to his usual choice of steak house.

"I'd like that." It's easy enough to agree, and it also means they're unlikely to be in role, something Stephen has no desire for right now.

"I'm told they make their own kulfi," Antony says with a smile, eyes crinkling.

"Hmm." Despite his subdued mood, Stephen hums his approval of that notion. "Pistachio or rose? That's the question, or shall I just have both?"

"Both," Antony suggests. "Since we're still on vacation." Reaching across to take Stephen's hand and give it a squeeze.

That touch, the familiarity of it, the dry warmth of Antony's fingers soothe Stephen. He blows out a breath and with it the last of the tension leaves him, the knot in the pit of his belly unravels leaving him feeling just a little less disconnected.

*********

Coming up out of the water, Antony quickly dries off and climbs onto the Bali bed to stretch out beside Stephen, lips brushed over his husband's shoulder. "You sure we can't stay another day or two?" he says, not really serious, but god, it's beautiful here.

Lowering his book, Stephen peers over the top, he grins at his husband. "You're the boss, it's your call," he points out. "I have nowhere I need to be until later in the week."

"But I do." Antony makes a face. "Besides, I'll be saying the same thing in a few days." He slides his hand down Stephen's back, pressing another kiss to his skin. "How's the book?"

"Full of zombies," Stephen chuckles, turning it so Antony can see the cover: 'World War Z'. "It's nothing like the movie." Though the chances of Antony having seen it are slight, indeed he's not even sure if it was ever on Antony's radar at all. "You're going to have tan lines you know," he points out, peering down at the shorts his husband insists on wearing.

Antony shrugs. "You're the only one who'll see them," he says then smiles. "Was that a subtle hint for me to take them off?" It doesn't matter either way. He sits up and shifts out of his shorts, tossing them to the end of the bed. "Better?"

Stephen's expression is one of lewd appreciation. "Certainly is," he nods, his eyes hot on his husband's nakedness. 

"Yeah? You like?" Antony teases, wrapping a hand around his cock and starting to stroke. Slowly.

"Hands off," Stephen growls. "That's mine." And there is nothing deferential in how he speaks, his words are coming from a place of pure hunger. No one gets him hot like Antony. He even reaches out to bat Antony's hand away.

Antony laughs, but his cock thickens even more. "Better do something about it then," he says, watching his lover closely.

The laugh earns Antony a filthy look as Stephen moves over his husband's body. He pulls one of Antony's thighs outward, and then straddles it, his hands firm, almost rough as he kneads, muscle and damp skin.

Antony's breath catches. Fuck. The look of hunger in Stephen's eyes going straight to his cock which jerks and spits a drop of precome.

"I see what I do to you," Stephen rumbles. "How much you want me, you love fucking me huh? Fucking my ass, my mouth, using me... well I use you too, the pleasure I get in your bed, at your hands..." he blows a breath out and rocks his ass on Antony's thigh. 

"So do it. Use me," Antony growls back, grinding his leg upwards, giving Stephen something to work against. "But if you don't do something about my cock soon, I will."

"That so?" Stephen writhes on Antony's leg. "What will you do?"

"Pin you down and take what I want."

"Pin me down?" Stephen huffs out a noise. "You'd have to fight me for it first." It's a challenge, it's been awhile since they actually got mutually physical like that, usually it's Antony smacking Stephen down with no come back from Stephen. Not today. 

He'd expected Stephen would say that. Antony surges up, wrapping his arm around Stephen's neck and pulling him down.

Instinctively Stephen brings his arms up, so when Antony tries to pull him down, presumably with the intention of rolling him, Stephen simply flexes his arms, putting all this strength into breaking that hold, he grunts with the effort, his breath coming in short, harsh, bursts.

Still pulling down, Antony wraps his free leg around Stephen's and twists, hard, shifting them both to the side.

"Fuck," Stephen grunts as he lands on his hip, he may have an edge on Antony in muscle mass, but his husband has a long head start in real hand to hand fighting, and he doesn't cut Stephen an inch of slack. What happens over the next minute or so is some very intense, very close, naked wrestling.

Stephen's strong. Very strong. And he's had some _really_ good training, but it's simply no match for Antony in the end as he pins him face down, their legs hooked together so Stephen's got nowhere to go. "Remind me _not_ to ever train you," he grits out, grinning, tasting blood in his mouth, his lower lip split. He rocks his hips forward, sliding his cock between Stephen's cheeks.

Stephen huffs out a laugh at that, he's breathless, sweaty, and he has a sore spot high on one cheek bone. "Oh you will... and one day...." he trails off as Antony's dick slips down the crease of his ass, the words morphing into an entirely more sensual noise.

"This is what you wanted the whole time, isn't it?" Antony moves so the head of his cock keeps catching on Stephen's hole, never quite penetrating, wickedly teasing them both. "You just wanted me to fight for it."

"Yeah... sometimes... sometimes I don't want to just be," he pauses to lick over his lower lip, catch a breath, "available." It's a poor way of expressing what he's feeling, but pinned like this, with Antony doing _that_ \- Stephen's far from articulate.

"But now that I've got you..." Antony presses forward this time, cock popping through that first tight ring of muscle, trusting Stephen's still slicked enough from earlier.

"Fuck," Stephen curses again, this time it's choked off, a half whine of pain punctuating the word as Antony breaches him, his husband's cock never one to take dry, without decent preparation, and there's barely enough to ease the way. Even so, Stephen's hips come up a fraction, all the movement he can make pinned as he is. 

Antony wraps his hands around Stephen's wrists, gripping roughly as he pushes deeper, grunting at how fucking tight Stephen is. But he's not about to stop. Not when they fucking fought for this.

Stephen's breath is coming in short sharp bursts as he bears down, all his focus on making room in his body for his lover, his husband. "Claim me," he whispers, his voice so quiet, the words so distorted by his stuttered breathing that he's not sure if Antony heard him.

"What's that?" Antony pushes in harder, burying himself balls fucking deep before he draws back and shoves in again. Forcing Stephen's body to give.

"Claim me," Stephen grits out the words through bared teeth, he fights against the grip Antony has on his wrists, struggling just enough to add a little something, to show he's not entirely passive, even if he has been subdued.

"I am," Antony growls back, tightening his grip and fucking Stephen even harder, driving in as hard as he can from this angle, his cock throbbing. "You're mine. _This_ is mine."

It's not just the choice of words, so much as the way Antony says them, the natural dominance that is inherent in his entire being. It's what Stephen responded to on their first night together and it's what he still responds to every single day they are together. Stephen wraps it around himself like a mental comfort blanket, knowing here, with this man, he will always be safe, be protected, be loved. And because of that he can give up control - totally and with absolute trust. 

"'M yours," he slurs out, his eyes shut now, his cheek pressed into the mattress on the Bali bed. "M'yours. Always..."

"Always," Antony nods, chasing after the pleasure that's flushing through his frame. "Forever." His orgasm right there. "Mine." As he comes hard, cock spurting thickly inside his husband, his lover, his boy.

Sometimes, Antony's pleasure is all Stephen needs, his own so secondary as to be inconsequential - this is one of those times. His initial hunger and need has be replaced with a submissive's satisfaction in having pleased his owner. He lets all the tension bleed out of his body, lying patiently beneath Antony's weight as his husband comes back from what felt like a pretty intense orgasm.

Easing his grip on Stephen's wrists, Antony drops down, draping himself over his husband, his cock still pulsing inside him. "I love you," he whispers, kissing Stephen's shoulder.

"I love you too," Stephen whispers back. He will never ever tire of hearing those three words from his husband.


End file.
